In a Matter of Moments
by anivet
Summary: In a matter of moments, the world seemed to stand still. And in that stillness, the only thing that moved was the dead. This is a series of oneshots based on the two biggest dorks trying to survive in a land ruled by the dead. Feel free to send in requests and reviews. Rickyl. May have angst and other genres later.
1. april fools

It's a Damn Shame

Daryl had always presented himself as a private man. One who needed his own space to avoid becoming volatile. And Rick respected that. He really did. And he would give Daryl as much space as he needed-as much that was reasonable, at least. Even after they had initiated this…what exactly was it?

Rick didn't even know, but he still gave Daryl the time and space he needed to just….do him. To do Daryl things and keep himself sane. Because as much as it saddened Rick, the man was a lone wolf because of his violent and bitter background. He knew the Dixon required time to himself to assess the situation and gain back his energy and resolve to jump back into the social aspect of their family.

He knew it exhausted him, and he knew he needed physical space just as much as he needed emotional space or air. Hell, it killed Rick every time Daryl's eye flickered to the ground when he was in close proximity to another. As if he would be punished for meeting another's gaze at close range. Or how his hackles would rise and his breath would hitch when he was touched without warning.

He'd gotten better. It was a work in progress. He was a jumpy, cautious person. Rick couldn't blame him, but he was sure as fuck confused as Daryl smirked, his eyes burrowing holes into Rick's in their close proximity. No submission or anxiety whatsoever and by god that was a welcomed change, if not an unexpected one.

The fingers curling in his hair tightened as his blue eyes flickered back to the dilated pupils that bore into his face and soaked in every detail.

Cursing himself, Rick couldn't hold the gaze for the life of him, feeling unsure and extremely self aware. The puff of hot air from the red necks mouth cascaded across his lips and Rick didn't even resist the urge to lick them, meeting Daryl's stare briefly.

He could feel his heart beating against his chest, Daryl's own playing a symphony when their fronts touched, and his fingers twitched gently on Daryl's biceps, losing himself in those pale blue orbs. Successfully swallowed up by the black void of attraction that quite literally was staring him right in the face.

Oh god, how he wanted to taste those lips, but he was frozen to the spot. Daryl chose to initiate this, and his own lust be damned, he'd let Daryl be in control if he wanted. That was fine, and it was probably what the other man needed.

Daryl leaned forward slowly, his moist lips parting only slightly as they became closer. Rick could see his tongue twitch inside his mouth seconds before Daryl's thin lips brushed lightly-oh so fucking lightly against Rick's. He tried to lean forward to get more of that fantastic sensation but Daryl snagged his lower lip between his teeth and sucked.

Rick didn't even attempt to hold in the moan that escaped, rutting against Daryl's hip. The deep, throaty chuckle he received for his despite need for friction, was too arousing to be shameful. The fingers in his scalp tightened and pulled his head back, forcing him to tilt his chin in the air as the Dixon scraped his teeth from his lips down his chin and continued until he reached he underside of his jaw.

Rutting at the nibbles and sucking kisses Daryl left in his wake, Rick's body was getting needy, frustratingly so. And Daryl's hot mouth suction cupping itself to Rick's jugular was not helping anything but the sudden need to release in his own pants.

"It's a damn shame," Daryl whispered huskily in his ear, his accent thickened by lust, as he raked his teeth on Rick's earlobe; knowing it was a weakness of his.

Rick could barely find the words to reply. "What is?"

"This," he murmured huskily as he reached around Rick's waist to the hem of his boxers before yanking them up, making him yelp in surprise before Daryl pulled away laughing and walked away with a huge grin on his face.

"Aprils fools~."


	2. boob man

Boob man

This was absolutely ridiculous. Rick gritted his teeth together in frustration, his fingers clenching in irritation. He could understand the extra needed alone time, he could even stand the rebellious attitude as long as it didn't endanger the group. But Carl was in for it big time.

There was no escaping his interference this time. Rick would have this talk with his son, and the boy would listen.

"Carl," he called out, authority thick in his voice as it bounced off the prison walls. He noticed how the boy wasn't the only other one raising his head during his call, nor did he miss the guilty look that passed over his features when he saw a rolled magazine tucked away in his back pocket. With a nod in the direction of the cells, Rick began to walk away. He could hear the hesitant steps behind him as Carl got up from his seat at the metal table.

Entering the young boys 'room', he sat on a spare chair, indicating Carl should plop down on his bed. After a moment of awkward silence, Carl opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry, I know I should be focusing on other things, but…I just…I found it in one of the guard towers, and I just. I…there's no girls, dad!"

Rick didn't speak, just stared with a blank expression as Carl racked himself over the coals trying to justify his actions, but it was obvious he was more embarrassed about being confronted about it, than ashamed for his actions.

"I should've hid it better, I mean-"

"Your a boob man."

"Seeing as how-….what?" Carl's words grounded to a halt.

Rick narrowed his eyes at his son, fingers tapping against his crossed arms. "You….are a boob man."

"Uhhh….yyyeeeaahh?" Carl answered, not exactly seeing how he should answer, and Rick chalked it up to him thinking it was a trap.

"Care to explain why?"

"What? Wait, whats going on, I don't understand."

"I'm an ass man." Rick stated, staring hard into Carl's uncomfortable eyes. The boy grimaced.

"Yeah, I could tell."

"Don't get smart with me," Rick chastised, although he couldn't help the crinkling of his eyes and the twitch of his lips. "Me being….going steady with Daryl has nothing to do with that."

"I'm not so sure, I mean…I don't remember mom having much, uh…in the trunk."

"Oh, your mom had it allll, kiddo," he smirked, watching Carl squirm. "In fact she-"

"There aren't very many of them." Carl interrupted, clearly not wanting to hear about his mothers bits and pieces. "Boobs. Everybody has a butt, but only girls have boobs. And….and I like girls, dad." He began to get frustrated, his red face tightening up as he spoke. "But there isn't any around, Beth won't look at me that way, and everybody else is all….old."

Rick laughed. "Yeah, not all of us have your springy youth."

"So…your not mad?"

Rick smiled. "No, I just wish you had some better material."

Neither of them noticed Daryl walking by until he had said his own opinion.

"I wish I had me some better material too."


	3. when he puts his mind to it

When Daryl put his ind to something, he tried harder to achieve his goals than any other person Rick had ever known. He could say without shame that he had never tried nearly as hard as Daryl has to fulfill his goals, but he just chalked it up to Daryl being passionate about everything he did. It didn't matter if it was killing walkers or eating canned peaches (Daryl's personal favorite, Rick noted), Daryl just had the natural and uncanny ability to take things to a different level of intensity. A level that was only reached and sustained by truly living in the moment.

It was a trait Rick admired and despised at the same time, because just as easily as Daryl could become consumed in a project, it was twice as hard to get him out of it. And as much as he appreciated Daryl building furniture for Judith, he wasn't a fan of the red neck plucking a forest's worth of splinters from his smashed fingers that were not able to avoid a swinging hammer in time.

"Son of a BITCH!" The curse was loud enough to startle every person in the yard and catch the attention of stray walkers roaming around aimlessly. Rick sighed and took that as his cue to intervene. The hammer fell to the cement ground as Daryl took to cradling his injured fingers, spitting out curses in every language he could think of.

Rick walked over just in time to witness Daryl kick the crib in retribution, blinking as the wood splintered under his punishment. "Oh shit," Daryl whispered before he got even more upset, eyes blazing in frustration and the possibility of a challenge.

"Whoa," Rick interrupted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You should be more careful before you break your damn foot."

Daryl took a dull notice of his teasing and glared, "Damn piece o' shit ain't fuckin' stickin' together."

"Did you measure it?" Rick almost felt bad for the distressed look he received, but Daryl's frustration in the simplest things was as entertaining as it was enduring.

"Ain't got no measuring tape," Daryl muttered, running a hand through his hair as he eyed the crib, only half facing his partner. Rick almost smiled at the sight of sawdust adjourned in his hair, resisting the urge to run his hand threw the soft locks and gently pulling out the residue.

"Then why couldn't this wait until we could find some so you could do this right?" He didn't dare say we, this was Daryl's mission. To fix what was broken, to make things as good-no, even better than they should be for their prison family. It was something that made Rick's chest clench and his heart flutter.

Daryl's eyes were narrowed into slits as he huffed, peering to some extremely interesting wall on his right. " 'Cuz we got more important things ta be searchin' for 'n ta fill our bags with. Ain't got no room for stupid ass rulers to make things easier fer me."

And there is was again. Daryl Dixon's main fault: putting himself below others. Rick didn't stop the frown that pulled at the corner of his lips, making sure to retrieve to tossed away hammer before holding out to Daryl in a fashion of truce.

Hesitantly, Daryl took it. Rick reckoned his slow movement had more to do with his grudge against the tool than any cautiousness of Rick he might have. Once Rick felt the coarse fingers graze over his in attempts to collect the chunk of metal, he grasped the injured hand with his other.

Making sure to be extremely tender with Daryl, he danced around the injuries, holding him by his palm before putting some pressure on it and attempted to meet Daryl's eyes.

Once again, they were glued to that damn wall. One of these days Rick was going to have to look there and see if there was actually anything worth seeing.

But what he was doing no was far more important.

"Well, think of it his way," he began. "Anything that keeps you from getting hurt or just plain makes your day easier, makes me happy. And lowers my risk level of gaining gray hair."

Daryl scoffed and made a weak, halfhearted attempt to shake him off, but stopped when he made the mistake of meeting Rick's insistent eyes.

Leaning closer, Rick was hardly even an inch away from Daryl's face and smiled, a playful twinkle in his eye. "Want me to kiss you boo-boo's better?"

Daryl snorted and used his free hand to gently push the man away by his face. Rick laughed and let him go, watching with childish interest as Daryl began to walk away, but not without one last glance over his shoulder.

"You're so damn gay."


End file.
